For You, I Would Pay Your Rent
by rory-williamspond
Summary: BBC Cabin Pressure. Martin is extremely dilligent in his pursuit of becoming a pilot, and carries that with him when he actually becomes one. It is getting to the point where it is infringing on his ability to maintain jobs, pay rent. Douglas attempts to help him relax, in his very own Douglas-like way. Sort of Martin/Douglas. Originally for the Cabin Pressure Cabin Crew Riot.


**AN: Originally written for the Cabin Pressure party (Cabin Crew Riot) back in October 2012. **

**Prompt: **

Martin is extremely dilligent in his pursuit of becoming a pilot, and carries that with him when he actually becomes one. It is getting to the point where it is infringing on his ability to maintain jobs, pay rent, etc. Douglas, representing sloth, helps him relax (in any way you see fit). Emphasize the need for balance!

* * *

"Martin, relax a little. It's not every day that Carolyn gives us a break between flights." Douglas bit into his apple, chewing noisily just to annoy Martin a little more.

"Yes, well, I just want these flight logs to be done _properly_. Also, I want to improve these emergency manuals." Martin scowled. He had a lot more work to be done, namely organising his bank account, but he could do that later. Hopefully.

"Well while you're doing that, captain, I shall be in the coffee shop, buying a latte. Need anything?"

"No, Douglas. Honestly, it wouldn't kill you to do a bit of work."

"I prefer to do mine last minute, thanks. Suit yourself." And with that, Douglas walked out of the flight cabin.

Martin sighed. He had so much to do… but he really _really_ wanted to improve those emergency flight manuals. They hadn't been changed in a year, and it was really nagging him. On the other hand, he had to fix his rent - he hadn't paid last month, and it was getting dangerously close to being his second month of non-payment.

He quickly pushed those thoughts out of his mind and focused on the emergency flight manual.

_1 month later_

"Douglas, stop!" Martin said wearily as Douglas blew in his ear for the third time.

It had been three hours since they had landed, and one of their clients was late. Martin took this time as an opportunity to do secondary pre-flight checks. Douglas, on the other hand, had been playing word games with Arthur earlier and was now trying to get Martin to take a break. By annoying him until he cracked, apparently.

"Douglas, I am begging you, will you please go bother someone else." Martin flicked one of the switches on the panel and turned to Douglas.

"I just wish you would take a break. How hard would it be? Or does _sir_ not understand the concept of a break?" Douglas commented. "There is nothing that needs to be checked twice on this plane, because the best we can hope for is that we don't fall out of the _sky_ in mid flight."

"Better safe than sorry," sniffed Martin.

"I believe the correct word here is _paranoid_."

"My middle name is _diligence_."

"And I suppose you would say mine was _sloth_?" Douglas commented, watching as Martin checked the default flight controls.

"Yes, I would. Because you are. You never do anything more than you're required to, and even when you're required to, you do it grudgingly." Martin yawned.

He didn't think that Douglas noticed him yawning, but indeed he had. Douglas had noticed that Martin was looking sleepier and sleepier in the past hour, barely keeping awake. He had half a mind to ask Arthur to prepare a vat of coffee.

"I am only asking you to take a break so that you can sleep," Douglas said indignantly.

"I am _not_ sleepy," Martin argued. Which wasn't very effective, as he had yawned while saying so.

"Honestly, just go to sleep while Mr. Ollivachi is still late. If it matters to you so much, _I'll_ do the secondary pre-flight checks." Douglas certainly didn't _want_ to do the checks, but if it meant that Martin would sleep, then he would at least do a good job of pretending to do it. For Martin's sake.

"I don't trust you." Martin eyed Douglas warily. It wasn't often that Douglas showed compassion, and it certainly was almost never directed at him. Most times it was directed at his ex-Richardson's.

"Is this one of your ploys? I swear, if you are playing the travelling lemon _again-"_

"Is it so hard to believe that I actually care about you, Martin?" Douglas asked. "You've been on the verge of falling asleep for the past hour. Exactly how much sleep did you get last night?" He raised his eyebrow at Martin, who looked guilty.

"It doesn't matter how much sleep I get, Douglas. Besides, what's _really_ important is MJN. I can't fly without knowing if everything is checked. Twice," sighed Martin. Even with all his arguing though, it was true. He really was tired, not getting enough sleep each night; too busy worrying about rent and money to fall asleep.

"You can't fly the plane if you fall asleep in the middle of the flight, Martin."

"That's why I have a first officer, _Douglas_," hissed Martin.

Douglas was taken aback by Martin's snappy reply. Just then, Martin's stomach rumbled. Douglas paused.

"Martin," he asked tentatively, "just how much food have you had today?" He eyed Martin carefully to make sure he wasn't lying.

Martin looked at Douglas and knew there was no use pretending. He sighed.

"A piece of bread this morning," he mumbled quietly. He looked away, embarrassed.

"Is that because… Are you…" Douglas had often wondered if the young man had some sort of eating disorder. It didn't seem like it, but, well, anything was possible. Thankfully, Martin got the message without him actually saying it.

"No, I'm not- I haven't got an eating disorder, if that's what you're wondering." Douglas nodded in understanding.

"Then why-"

"If you must know," said Martin quickly. He paused and took a deep breath. "If you must know… I- I don't earn enough to buy food. Usually." There, he had said it. He tried not to look into Douglas's eyes. God knows he'd had enough teasing already.

"Martin…"

He refused to look up, choosing to play with the sleeves of his jacket. He fingered one of the epaulettes, pulling on a stray thread. That was, until he felt a hand under his chin.

"Martin," said Douglas softly. Martin looked up. Douglas's brown eyes were persistent.

"How much does Carolyn pay you?" Douglas asked gently. He could see that Martin was trying not to break down. Martin shook his head gently, his head thudding on Douglas's chest.

"Nothing," whispered Martin. And then he was in his arms, sobbing. Douglas tried his best to comfort him, rubbing his back, all while thinking about Martin's situation.

It was likely that Martin barely had enough money to pay the rent, leading to him not having enough money to buy food because he had to use the money to pay the rent. Douglas wondered where he got the money. If he had a separate job, that would leave him almost no time to-

Oh. That made sense. If Martin had another job, then he wouldn't have time to _do_ the other job because of his dedication to MJN. And if he couldn't do the other job, then he couldn't earn any money.

"Tell you what," Douglas murmured. Martin's sobs were starting to cease, becoming quiet sniffles buried in Douglas's shirt.

"I'll pay your rent," he said. Martin stiffened. His breathing was ragged, the occasional sob choking through him.

"You can't do that." His face was still buried in Douglas's shirt. The comment came out more like a mumble. Douglas put a hand in Martin's curls, lifting his head slightly.

"Why not? It'll make your life hell of a lot easier, I can tell you."

Martin finally lifted his head. His eyes were red from crying, and he looked so sad and lost. Douglas's heart sank. This man had the worst luck in the world, and didn't deserve it.

"Why do you care?" Martin whispered. He had long given up on everything but flying - it was his passion, his hobby. To him, nothing else mattered anymore. Why would Douglas, why would _anyone_, want to help him?

Douglas bit his lip. He held the trembling man in his arms and hugged him.

"I may be the sloth, Martin, as you are diligent. I may not care about MJN as much as you do, but contrary to your belief, I care about _you_. I am not as heartless as I may seem." Douglas planted a kiss atop Martin's curly hair. "I am _not_ going to let you throw yourself away for flying. For you, I would pay your rent. Hell, for you, I would do _anything_."

It was an astonishing thing for Martin to hear - that someone cared about him, actually wanted to help him.

"Thank you," he whispered into Douglas's shirt. It was only now that Douglas realised how skinny the man really was, his fingers gliding over his arms and to his face. His hand slowed, realising the unfamiliar territory they were now entering. Martin's blue eyes were bright as he pulled Douglas's head down gently and brought their lips into a gentle kiss. Martin's sobs were gone, tears falling from his cheeks as he realised the realness of his situation. Douglas Richardson had just offered to pay his rent. Douglas Richardson _cared_ about him.

Douglas pulled away slowly, kissing away Martin's tears. He may have lightened Martin's load a bit, but it was enough.

For now, they were enough.


End file.
